


Zemblanity

by lenfaz



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 14:00:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7511084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lenfaz/pseuds/lenfaz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William Boyd coined the term zemblanity to mean somewhat the opposite of serendipity: "making unhappy, unlucky and expected discoveries occurring by design". A zemblanity is, effectively, an "unpleasant unsurprise". It derives from Novaya Zemlya (or Nova Zembla), a cold, barren land with many features opposite to the lush Sri Lanka (Serendip). <br/>Soulmates gone wrong AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zemblanity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lifeinahole](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lifeinahole/gifts).



It has been scripted since the beginning of time. Not for all, but there’s always been a subset of them destined for one another. Dark and light fated to find each other, fall for each other and merge into one another, to restore order in the universe. Centuries have passed and the practices have been long forgotten, nothing but folk tales narrated over and over again, the constant iteration of the words erasing their meaning until they are nothing but a background noise.

The only thing that remains is the sound of one soul calling for the other.

/-/

Emma was lazing on the couch, a mindless reality tv show playing on the television as she sipped her hot chocolate and relaxed after a gruesome shift. Her body ached for a good night sleep and she was almost dozing off when she felt it. She groaned in frustration.

Killian Jones. She really didn’t have the energy for this. For _him_. Killian bloody Jones, leader of _The Pirates_ , agitator extraordinaire, rebel with a somewhat fair cause, and black leather aficionado.

Killian Jones. _Her fucking soulmate_.

_It had come as a shock for him as much as it had been for her when they felt the call for one another at the age of twenty-five, having only been mere acquaintances on the outskirts of each other’s lives. It had been so late in life -at least compared to when the call used to come in previous centuries- that Emma had harbored the silent hope she wouldn't have a soulmate. She didn’t want one anyway. When the people that were meant to love you the most left you behind -as her parents did when they abandoned her as a baby- then you had a hard time believing in the possibility of love. Even if it rained from the sky as a gift, as this one had been._

_The first time she felt him, it had been as if she’d been caught in the eye of the storm and all she could do was stand still, watching the raging buffetings pass by._

_And there was wrath. He still had it in spades seven years after his brother was taken away from him by a corrupt police commissioner. Liam Jones, honorable man and rising star of the department, forever silenced by a confused friendly fire when he was collaborating with Internal Affairs on an investigation. Liam Jones, forever stripped from Killian’s life when he was still too young to avenge him, killed by the ones who were sworn to protect them all._

_Killed by the same police force she was now part of._

 

Three years later, she could still feel the call coming to her like a tropical seastorm, washing away everything but the sense of him. She tried to ignore him, silencing the noises in her mind and the feelings running through her. Shutting down the basic instinct that was calling for her to go to him, to save him from whatever idiotic contrivance had put him in a dire situation.

As usual, she’d failed. The calling of a soulmate was almost impossible to resist. They were considered a rare breed, Killian and her, for the fact that for the past three years they had stubbornly ignored their destiny and resisted the idea that they were meant to be. Over and over, as their souls tried to reach for each other, they had disciplined their bodies and minds to find the willpower to ignore it.

It seemed it was the only thing Killian and Emma had in common. They didn’t want to be destined to each other.

Emma let a heavy sigh leave her lips, rolling her eyes in frustration before she left the comfort of her couch and headed to whatever troublesome situation Killian had immersed himself in. She knew she wouldn’t get a good night’s sleep otherwise.

She followed the echoes of the call mindlessly, closing her mind and letting her soul guide her to the appropriate place. Soon, she was rounding _The Rabbit Hole_ \- Killian’s preferred seedy joint - and making her way into the back alley. Sure enough, Emma could discern through the feeble street lights a couple of silhouettes entwined with each other. The movements and the grunting sounds could very easily be mistaken as two random strangers getting caught in the throes of passion, but Emma knew better.

Unfortunately for her, she could _feel_ better. Emma pushed down the raging jealousy that was threatening to surface as she neared her _soulmate_ and grabbed a hold of her gun.

“I suggest you move, _honey_ ,” she spat, clearly not able to push the jealousy completely aside.

The woman turned around with a deathly glare, her hand closing in on a knife but Emma was faster - and smarter- and her gun was already pointed at her.

“I wouldn’t do that, unless you want to spent the rest of the night, and probably a couple of years, in jail.” She took a moment to study the woman, from her luscious red lips to her curly brunette hair and voluptuous curves. She snorted briefly. “Get lost, sweetheart,” she gestured with her gun towards the other end of the alley. The woman seemed to consider her options briefly before she pocketed the knife and left.

Emma’s eyes finally focused on Killian. His hair was disheveled, as if someone had either been pulling it or running their hands through it - and it had probably been both - and his lips were both swollen and sporting a cut on them. Her hand was almost reaching to graze her fingers on his cheek when she regained her sanity and she smacked him instead.

"Really, Killian? Again?” she asked frustrated. “How many times are you going to get taken in by big-boobed bimbos who will rob you in an alley?"

"I had it under control, Swan…” he groaned. “You didn’t need to show up."

“It’s not like a have a god damn choice, asshole,” Emma retorted, taking a step away as she fought yet another urge to reach for him. “This - this fucking thing won’t let me exist in peace if you’re troubled somehow.”

There was distress in her voice and she could tell the moment it reached into him, because before she could even breathe again, Killian had enveloped her in his arms, a puff of breath on her ear sending shivers down her spine. She clinged to him, her forehead burrowed into his neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, his lips touching the shell of ear and she moaned at the contact, her body pressing against his.

The sound seemed to bring some sense into him, because soon he’d pulled away, shoving her without much force but with clear intent.

“ _Bloody hell_ ,” he cursed vehemently.

“ _Fuck_!” Emma agreed with him, taking a few steps away from Killian, just for good measure.

“My apologies, Swan. You know it’s not like I want to,” Killian explained. “I mean, part of me clearly wants to - but you know…” he trailed off, his fingers reaching to caress her before he pulled away with another lengthy curse. “Buggering hell, you better get away from me, Emma, before we end this night in a way neither of us wants to.”

“Ugh,” Emma replied as she put even more distance between them. “At least fucking try, Killian!” she admonished.

“You think I don’t, lass?” he snapped. “What do you think _those women_ are for, darling?”

Emma bit back her reply, as it was clear to both of them that no more words were needed, and the longer they stayed in each other’s presence, the worse this - whatever the fuck this contrived and cursed pull was - would get.

“I should go,” her voice was barely a thin whisper in the air as he averted his eyes and nodded slightly.

“Go!” he said in a strained voice, using the last of his will to restrain himself from going after her.

/-/

He shouldn’t be here. Killian knew this, his mind was able to draw all the logical reasons as to why he needed to start his car and drive back home, far away from the restaurant where he was currently parked. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to turn the keys into the ignition and leave the parking lot.

_Don’t do this, Killian._

He groaned, hitting his forehead against the wheel a few times, trying to beat some sense into himself.

_Buggering hell._

He was out of the car, across the parking lot and into the restaurant in less than a blink of an eye, his body moving on automatic pilot, his own instincts carrying him to his destination. He was able to stop himself by the bar, his hands gripping the counter as he fought his urges.

_Don’t look. Don’t bloody look._

As if he were controlled by silent strings, his eyes moved towards the dining area, scanning the tables until they found their target. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her. She looked beautiful - he had to give her that - with her blonde hair hanging loose over her bare shoulders and her green eyes shining brightly. She was smiling and it seemed she was interested in what the man sitting in front of her was saying.

_Leave. Leave now, damn it._

He quickly strode towards the table and stopped when he was close, adding a little swagger into his step. He could tell the moment Emma sensed him because she stiffened and she turned her face in his direction.

“Fancy meeting you here, love,” his sultry voice was exceedingly low, as his eyes roamed over the figure her dress was only enhancing, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

Her eyes widened almost comically and Killian couldn’t help but cock an eyebrow at her. He was fast, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet as he addressed the man in front of her.

“Now, if you’d excuse us one moment,” he said and without waiting for a reply, he darted towards the hallway that hosted the bathrooms, tugging Emma by the hand for her to follow him.

“Killian!” she hissed but he paid no attention until they were alone in the narrow hallway, their bodies almost pressed to each other. He turned around, his blue eyes boring into hers.

“Swan… you look-” he started, swallowing thickly.

“You’re interrupting my date. I was having fun, Killian,” she protested, trying to put some space between them. He let her hand go, and regained some of his senses once she was a few inches away from him. Unfortunately, it was only some.

"That was not what my radar was telling me, Swan. Look at him, he looks like a monkey." He pointed to the table and Emma’s gaze followed his before she chuckled, the anger leaving her shoulders and her body leaned into him.

He drifted toward her, the scent of her perfume invading his nostrils. His voice dropped an octave and it was nothing but a whisper. “Your body is rejecting that bloke.”

Emma curved her lips into a hint of a smile. “Perhaps,” she admitted, her voice coming to him like a caress, making his skin ache for a real touch.

Killian grabbed her waist and he bent his head, lowering slowly until his lips were only a breath away from hers. He could feel his heart beating frantically in anticipation of that kiss he’d denied himself.

Why had he denied himself of this feeling for such a long time? This was it, what it was meant to be. This was _destiny_.

That thought running his mind seemed to sober him and he froze, his lips an inch away from hers. Emma felt his hesitation and she opened her eyelids. Her eyes connected with his and realization dawned on her.

“Oh shit,” she muttered as she pulled away from him. “Damn it!”

 “I’m sorry, Swan. I swear I’m trying,” he explained as he ran his hand through his hair in frustration.

“I know,” she whispered, her hand reaching to his arms, her voice calm and collected. “It’s ok, Killian, these things happen. We’re doing our best.”

He made the mistake of looking at her in that moment and he lost himself in her eyes.

“Killian....” she whispered as she tilted her head, her nose touching his.

“Swan, you don’t want to do this…” he reminded her and that made her stop, taking a step away from him with a soft tint of her cheeks. “Perhaps you should go back to your date,” he offered politely.

“Nah, you were right, he does look like a monkey,” she shrugged. “I’ll just make an excuse and go home.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologized once again. “I’ll just - I’ll deal with it.” He ducked his head bashfully as he turned to leave.

“Killian,” she called and when he turned, she was smiling softly at him. “Stay out of trouble, would you? I’m not in the mood to go chasing after you in a dark alley and I - I don’t think we would walk away unscathed from a second encounter tonight.”

“Aye, I’ll be careful,” he promised.

/-/

There was something different about him tonight. She could feel it. She’d always felt it on this night. This was the night she’d always let him unravel, regardless of what he was feeling. This was the night when she wouldn’t stop him.

This was the night she’d locked herself up in her apartment and she let him grieve in any way he saw fit.

This was the night she’d always give him.

But this time, this year, it was too much. As she paced back and forth in her living room, she could feel it all. The unbearable grief, the sadness creeping into him - and into her - and flooding everything. Darkness washing away every bit of light, of happiness, of hope. Of everything good he’d been able to build in the past few years. It was all fading away and he was falling, falling into the precipice and she knew she _shouldn’t_. She _knew_ she should let him be, that they were both too vulnerable, that she’d be breaking some sort of unspoken rule between them - never speak about the demons that haunted either of them.

He didn’t notice her - or pretended he didn’t notice - as she slid on the stool next to his at the counter and motioned the bartender for a drink.

“I didn’t expect to see you here today, Swan,” Killian said as he took a sip from his glass. Rum, she guessed. He wasn’t slurring, but he wasn’t completely sober either. “I thought we had an agreement about nights like these.”

“I thought so too,” Emma replied as she donned her whisky in one gulp and motioned the bartender for another. “Yet, here I am.”

She raised her refilled glass from the counter. “To Liam.”

He clinked his glass with hers before washing it down in one move and putting it down on the counter with a thud. He played with the rim of the empty glass, his eyes lost in the bottles that were organized on the shelves of the bar.

“I miss him,” he confessed, the sadness so palpable in his voice that she could feel it crawling in her own skin. Her hand reached for his, her fingers curling around his palm and squeezing tight, trying to bring some comfort to him, however small and not anywhere near what he needed. She couldn’t give him what he needed. She couldn’t bring Liam back.

Killian sighed, his hand rotating until his fingers intertwined with hers, his thumb tracing patterns against her skin, the cold metal of his rings contrasting with the warmth of his caress.

“Do you ever wonder,” he started hesitantly, “what would happen? If we stop fighting this? If we just - _give in_?”

His voice sounded tired, as if centuries of darkness were resting upon his shoulders and he just wanted to put an end to his constant fight against destiny.

Emma remained silent, pondering his question and trying to figure out her answer. Had she ever wondered? She couldn’t remember. From the moment she felt the call for him, she’d stubbornly resisted. The idea of one more thing being decided for her, just as so much had been for the majority of her life - when she would go into a new foster home, when she would have to leave again, uprooting her from everything she knew, over and over again - had been too much for her to take in. But the moment he spoke the words, the idea crept into her, the possibility nagging at the corners of her mind. What if she gave in? What if she finally relented into what her soul was waiting for? What if she reached out and fused herself with Killian? Would that be such a terrible thing? 

The silence stretched out between them and Killian seemed to misinterpret it. He sighed and slid out of his stool, standing up, his hand leaving hers to reach into his back pocket, taking his wallet and placing a couple of notes on the counter.

“Drinks are on me tonight.” He finished his and averted his eyes. “Goodnight, Swan.”

Emma watched him leave, his back to hers, the slack in his shoulders and the overall sense of defeat that he carried with him leaving a prickling sensation in her skin. She rubbed the palm of her hand against her forearm, trying to get rid of the itching sensation that was spreading over her. She focused her eyes on the frayed edges of the coaster underneath her glass, forcing herself to stay still, not to move, not to go after him even though her entire body was urging her to do.

She failed.

She caught up with him at the back alleyway, his preferred shortcut to his apartment - and preferred location for _other activities_ \- his back to hers as his feet dragged against the pavement.

“Killian!” she called for him, not even sure where the frantic tone of her voice came from.

He turned around, his confused eyes focusing on her as his lips parted and his brow furrowed in perplexion. She couldn’t blame him, as her chasing after him had been too rare in their life. Even before all this soulmate madness, when they were just two teenagers running into each other in the school hallways, he’d only flirted with her out of habit and she’d always rolled her eyes at his antics.

Emma didn’t hesitate, closing the distance between them and pulling him by the lapels of his leather jacket, her mouth searching for his. 

She knew she was doomed the moment her lips touched his. He gasped in surprise, remaining frozen for a small fraction of a second before his own instincts kicked in and he was kissing her back, his hands finding a home in her hair and on her waist, pressing her against him. She couldn’t tell if the moan was escaping her lips or his, as she was drowning in his kiss, drowning in _him_ , in the incredible feeling spreading through her entire body and she could only grasp one single fleeting thought in the haze of her mind.

_More._

Somehow she found herself pressed against the nearest wall, their limbs tangled as they frantically kissed, their wandering hands exploring every inch of their bodies they could reach, their tongues darting to meet stroke by stroke in a dance that was raising their body heat to a boiling point.

“My place?” Killian asked against the hollow of her throat when he was finally able to tear his lips from hers, only to start an assault of kisses down her neck.

“Yes,” she agreed, her hand reaching to grab his ass and pulling him closer to her, her hips grinding against his as she sought more friction. He groaned before his lips crashed against hers in a searing kiss, his hands resting on the wall on both sides of her head as he pressed even harder against her, rolling his hips in an indecent move for such a public - albeit dark - place.

Emma couldn’t recall how long it took to reach his apartment, the short walk constantly interrupted by their need to feel one another, their bodies adamant that they catch up on lost time. He pinned her against the wall a few times, his lips attacking her neck with fierce kisses until he elicited a few loud moans from her. Emma had the satisfaction of drawing out a few groans and lengthy curses from him as well when she cupped him over the denim of his jeans, her hand moving up and down his hardening length as he jerked his hips against it, his eyes almost rolling into the back of his head. She had half of a mind to unbuckle his belt and take him into her mouth right there in the middle of the street and it was only the proximity of his apartment that prevented her from doing it.

/-/

Once they got inside, Killian unlocked his door and quickly pulled her into his apartment, scooping her into his arms and pinning her against the wooden frame. There was a thud as the keys fell from his hands to the floor and the clicking sound of the door closing right next to them before he groaned against Emma’s skin, his lips tracing a pattern down her collarbone.

“Gods, Swan… you’re so-” his words were cut from his lips as Emma brought his mouth to hers in a fierce kiss. His arms held her close to him as she crossed her ankles behind his back and he stumbled his way towards his bedroom, his lips never leaving her skin.

She unhooked her legs from around him and he held her by the waist as her feet touched the floor, reaching to remove each other’s clothing in a frenzied race to unveil their bodies. She stumbled backwards until her knees hit the bed, her fingers hooking his belt loop and pulling him towards her. His shirt was already gone and she pushed her palm flat against his stomach before she reached to undo the belt and unzip his jeans. She had his cock free and had closed her mouth around him in the blink of an eye, and all that was left in the room was the sound of his moans as her tongue licked and stroked him, her head bobbing up and down to take him in. His hand grabbed her head, his fingers massaging her scalp as if it were the only thing that was holding him to sanity. He was close - _so_ close- but he didn’t want to come, not like this. He wanted this night to last a little longer than this. He wanted to explore her entire body and bury himself within her before he reached his finale. He stilled her movements with as slight pressure of his hand on her head, slowly pulling himself away from her mouth. She lifted her head, her green eyes darkened with lust as she licked her lips and he felt himself once again at the verge of losing control.

“I need to taste you, Emma…” he said in a strained voice as he pushed her down on the bed, shoving her jeans and underwear out of the way and leaning down to lick her core. She whimpered, her hips bucking against his tongue as he held her firmly with one of his hands on her waist. He closed his mouth on her clit, one of his fingers teasing at her entrance and groaning at the wetness he found in there. His finger kept taunting her, enjoying her frustrated gasps until his tongue started flicking lightly against her, back and forth, building her up until she came crashing down against his tongue.

He licked and kissed a trail up her body all the way up to her lips, his mouth moving insistently against hers as he kicked off the jeans that were still on his legs. His hands moved to grab hers and he intertwined their fingers as he pinned them above her head.

“Do you still want to go through with this?” he asked, rubbing his length against her core, gasping at how great it felt and resisting the urge to slide into her in one move.

“Yes,” she moaned, bucking her hips up, causing all the muscles of his body to strain in a delicious way as his cock twitched in anticipation.

“Let me grab a condom then,” he said as he disentangled their fingers and reached for his nightstand.

“I -” Emma started, hitching up her leg on his hip, the sole of her foot caressing his calf. “It’s safe,” she whispered, her eyes meeting his.

His mouth was suddenly dry and he had to swallow. “Are you sure?”

She looked at him for a moment that could have been either the fleeting blink of an eye or an eternity, but he couldn’t tell as he was losing himself in the golden accents of her green eyes. She finally nodded, a slow lift of her head meeting his lips for a hesitant kiss. He reciprocated, the mood suddenly changing for a brief moment as they kissed slowly, leisurely, in a way that left him more breathless than any of the things they’d done before. He pulled away, his eyes meeting hers as he slowly slid into her, her expression mirroring his astonishment. He had to close his eyes when he was finally buried to the hilt, the sensation too overwhelming for him.

“ _Bloody Hell_.”

“ _Fuck._ ”

He couldn’t tell if they had uttered the words out loud or if they had sensed them in one another, but in that moment, he knew she was as overwhelmed as him by the intensity of their connection. He bent down to kiss her blindly before he opened his eyes and started moving, shallow thrusts moving back and forth, dragging against her walls in a slow motion. Her hooded eyes met his from beneath her eyelashes, her hips rolling to meet his every thrust, taking him deeper into her, making him groan from the indescribable pleasure he was feeling. 

He’d had good fucks in his life before, but nothing compared to this _perfection_. It was as if it was meant to be - probably that damned destined soulmates thing, as if he was meant to be with her, her body fitting his perfectly, the way he seemed to be in sync with her needs, the way he was reading her body as if it were an open book. He was close - so bloody close - yet he couldn’t come, not yet. His body was holding on - the muscles in his back straining from the pressure as he thrust into her - because he knew she wasn’t there. They were so attuned with each other that he shifted unintentionally, his hips rolling until he found the spot that made her gasp and roll her head back, closing her eyes and arching her body to his. He picked up the pace, his hand reaching to rub circles against her clit, his head bending down so he could flick his tongue against one of her nipples.

“Killian, I -” she gasped, her hands pressing flat against his back.

“Don’t hold back, love,” he urged her as he brought her closer to the edge with his thumb rubbing circles on her and his tongue flicking against her nipple. She shattered beneath him, her walls clenching down around him and toppling him over the edge. He reached to frantically crashed his lips against hers as he kept thrusting into her, prolonging their climax as much as possible before his body collapsed next to hers.

Breathless, he pulled her closer to him, his arm enveloping her as he reached for the blankets at the end of the bed and covered them both. He nuzzled against her neck, placing a soft kiss on her shoulder blade before he drifted off, the first night he’d been able to fall peacefully asleep on the anniversary of Liam’s death.

He woke up the next morning with her scent on his pillow, the space on the bed next to him empty. He could make out her retreating figure through his sleep-dazed eyes. Her fingers traced the line of his jaw for a brief second before she quickly removed her hand. 

“Emma, last night was...” he started but she cut him off with a shake of her head.

“A one time thing,” she asserted, taking a few steps away from him. “It doesn’t change anything. Goodbye, Killian,” she whispered before leaving his room.

/-/

He tossed and turned in his bed. Another sleepless night, the images running through his head the moment he closed his eyes. He could still smell her scent in his bedding, he could still recall how her skin felt against his fingers, the sound of her voice as she whispered his name.

_He could still remember everything._

He hadn’t been able to get her off of his mind after their shared night. Now that he knew how it felt, the pull for her was stronger, harder to resist. Everything he’d done before to restrain himself - all the attempts to stubbornly refuse what destiny wanted him to do - all his strategies were failing. He couldn’t even consider finding some nameless woman to entertain his needs for the night, his body rebelling at the thought of burying himself in anything other than Emma’s tight sheath, her body being the only one he now craved. He fought the urge to find Emma, to get himself in any dire situation so she would somehow materialize and save him.

He finally gave up, getting out of his bed and pacing back and forth in his room, contemplating his next move.

_Find Emma._

He sighed, frustration oozing from his every pore. He couldn’t go to her. He didn’t trust himself not to cave and end up doing something stupid like beg her to let him into her bed. _Or her heart_.

He shook that last thought from his head, making a hasty decision. He couldn’t stay in town. He needed to disappear for a while, put some distance between them so he could deal with these _inconvenient_ feelings and regain his peace of mind.

He packed a few items of clothing and toiletries in a duffel bag and picked up the keys to his Camaro. He stole one last glance at his bed, the memories of that night committed to his mind, and turn off the lights before leaving his apartment.

He hadn’t even reached his car when his phone chirped with a message.

_Killian, what is going on?_

**_I’m leaving town for a while. It’s for the best._ **

_Don’t do this._

**_I have to. If I stay, who knows what will happen, Swan._ **

_I don’t want to chase you across five states, Killian._

**_You won’t have to. I - I’ll deal with this, I promise. Goodbye, Swan._ **

He turned off his phone after his last message, tossing it on the passenger seat along with his duffel bag as he got into the car and drove with no destination in mind.

/-/

It had been two months, seventeen days and eight hours since Killian had left town. Not that she was counting, Emma thought as she drove by his place that morning. She couldn’t remember when, but it had become her morning ritual. Get out of bed, shower, grab a cup of coffee from the nearest stand, and then drive by his place before heading to the station.

But he wasn’t there. She knew he wasn’t. She could feel his absence deep in her bones, like a cold chill that she couldn’t shake off, no matter how many blankets she’d use at night or how high she’d turn the heat in her apartment. There was this constant sense of longing in her, as if an integral part was missing.

She sighed, fighting the tears that threatened to escape before she put the car back in gear and drove away.

She blamed their intimacy at first. That night had ruined it all and her mind - and his - had been fogged by a great fuck. And it had been great, the images and sensations imprinted in her mind and deciding to make repeat performances during her dreams, leaving her to wake up flustered and frustrated. She’d felt his need those first few days, how he was craving for her in a way he’d been able to control before but now couldn’t. It had triggered her own need, and each night she had to fight hard against the impulse to barge into his apartment and take him to bed again.

She wondered why he hadn’t sought the company of another body, a strategy she was fully aware he’d use time and again in the three years they’d denied one another. She’d done it a few times too, on some nights where the thought of him with another woman had her body riling up against her and she’d found a random stranger to go home with and lose herself in a mindless, faceless release. But he hadn’t and as the week stretched on, she could feel his thoughts shifting into something she couldn’t - _wouldn’t_ \- name. He was caving. His resolve was faltering and she could feel it all, every single shift in his mood resonating in her. All the way into his final determination that made her heart skip a beat as she froze in the middle of her apartment.

She pleaded with him over the phone not to make a rushed decision, but it had been for nothing as he made his decision, shutting off his phone - and himself - from her.

The first few weeks were hard, as she could still feel bits of him, of his need, and the fresh memories of their shared encounter had her skin tingling and her body itching. She contemplated a random hookup to get her mind off that night, but the moment the guy had put a hand on her bare knee and she felt the nausea coming over her, she realized why he hadn’t sought another woman after they slept together. She couldn’t go through with it, the idea of hands other than Killian’s touching her making the bile rise up in her throat.

She cried herself to sleep that night, cursing him, her and the entire fucking universe for putting them through this.

It all seemed to change after that night she broke down, as if something had shifted the balance between them. It seemed almost as if he was letting her in into the corners of his soul he had kept hidden for her. She felt his grieving move from anger to resignation and acceptance; she felt him made peace with the hand fate had dealt him when his brother died. 

But that wasn’t the only thing that shifted. Their distance had cleared the lust fog in both of their minds and a different - deeper - bond was surfacing. And for the first time, she sensed how Killian didn’t fight against it. He simply embraced it, letting this newfound resolve heal the remaining broken parts of his battered soul. The acceptance brought a calm within him that he carried wherever he went, his mind keeping her in his thoughts as he continued his soul searching journey.

It was then that he started to fade away from her. Slowly, peacefully, he reached for her less, almost as if his journey was coming to an end and he was gradually saying goodbye to her. He kept fading away until one day she couldn’t feel him anymore.

That had been seventeen days and four hours ago and each day she’d drove by his place and stood there, waiting. She couldn’t tell what was happening. There had been stories about the bond between soulmates being broken, but the details had been long forgotten and all that was left were the old fairytale recollections everyone knew not to trust. Emma thought about asking David for his thoughts, but David had never even contemplated refusing his soulmate. He and Mary Margaret had embraced their bond and never spent a day apart after that, finding happiness in their simple life together. And while he might have issues with Killian’s constant rebellion against authority and had winced when he found out he was Emma’s soulmate, she knew deep down he’d agreed with his wife that love was always worth every single sacrifice.

So she did the one thing she could do, she’d waited for him. Each night she’d sit by her open window, letting the chill, autumn air hit her face as she searched for him, only to be met with silence. She’d take a deep breath.

_Killian, come back to me._

/-/

A few weeks later, Killian came back. Emma had to stop what she was doing and grab the nearest chair for support, her knees weakened from the intensity of his feelings coming back to her as waves washing onto a shore. She closed her eyes, taking a deep breath as she searched for any danger he might be in, but there was none.

There was only an unfamiliar sense of belonging, of calm. There was something simmering underneath, powerful yet soft, passionate yet delicate. It felt different… It felt a lot like-

Emma stopped her wandering thoughts, not daring to reach that destination, not now. Not yet. Not until she was facing him. She took a deep breath, running a hand through her hair and smoothing her shirt before she reached for the door.

She knew exactly where to find him.

It was a pleasant autumn afternoon, the sunlight warming the benches that looked over the coast. There was a soft breeze coming from the calm sea, flooding the air with a salty smell. She spotted Killian sitting on nearby bench, his eyes lost at the sea.

He sensed her presence and he turned to face her. His hair was longer and disheveled by the breeze, giving him a roguish air. But there was the hint of a smile coming to his lips as he drank her in.

“Officer Swan,” he greeted with a tilt of his head. “I don’t think I’m breaking any laws, am I?”

Emma realized then that she’d been fidgeting with her badge out of habit.

“No,” she acknowledged, before her voice took a playful tone. “But do you plan to?”

He chuckled and the sound was warm, enveloping like a soft cashmere sweater over her skin. “I don’t think I’ll be breaking the law from now on. My rebel days are over.” He moved his hand with a flourish, and she had to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

“Good,” she said as she slowly took a seat next to him.

He averted his eyes, reaching to scratch behind his ear. “I- I know you and David and the rest of the station are trying. I know it’s not the same as before.”

It was the first time he’d ever spoken about her line of work and how it had affected him. It was the first time - as far as she could remember - that he was referring to his brother’s partner.

“He still feels guilty, you know?” Emma said, her eyes focused on the ocean, not sure she could continue talking if she were looking at him. “Thinks he could have stopped it.”

Killian’s fingers fidgeted on his knee. “He shouldn’t. It wasn’t his fault.” He sighed deeply, as if centuries of pain were coming to an end. “My brother knew the risks and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. I’ll talk to David…” he stopped, tilting his head in a self-deprecating way. “That is, if you think he’d listen to me.”

She nodded encouragingly, and was rewarded with a genuine smile that reached to the creases around his eyes. Emma bit her lower lip, daring to press the matter a little further.

“Why are you here?”

“The horizon, the sea, is calming. Much like rum, but without the morning after hangover consequences.”

“The sea calms me too,” she confessed.

“I know…” he whispered softly, a hint of longing dripping in his voice.

“You left.” There was a tinge of accusation on her tone, one she didn’t mean to have, but that she couldn’t fight against.

“I- Swan, I couldn’t fight it anymore, I was losing control. I had to,” he stated fervently, his desperation almost reaching his voice. “It’s my job to protect you, your heart.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and the tip of his ears turned pink as he shrugged sheepishly.

“Or at least it’s supposed to be my job.” He offered with a small smirk. “I just needed to put some distance, get some perspective. Work a few kinks out on my own.”

“I know. I- I felt it.” She fought the urge to reach for his hand and calm his fidgeting. “Most of it at least. Until you shut me out.”

He gave her a sheepish smile, his eyes scanning over her face.

“I called for you, Killian,” she whispered. Regret crossed over his face and it felt like it was too much to handle. She started to avert her eyes but his fingers grazed her chin, holding her gaze to his.

“I know, and I’m here now.”

She studied his face, the serenity in it… the determination behind his words and his eyes. The way he was looking at her as if she were the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Do you meant it?” She hated that her voice sounded so hesitant, so vulnerable in front of him. He gave her a quizzical look and Emma pushed against her walls, determined to know once and for all. “That is your job to protect my heart. I mean, do you?”

He swallowed, his eyes boring into hers with longing. “Aye.”

Emma leaned into him, her intent quite clear but Killian froze her movement, cupping her face in his hands, looking at her with such passion and sincerity that it was almost impossible not to be drawn by him at that moment.

“Emma I don’t want you to -” he started in a strained voice. “If this is because it’s just destiny then don’t, love. I want this to be your choice. Because, in the end, you were mine. I - I chose to love you.” 

She could read in his eyes the words he wasn’t saying, the plea his heart was laying at her feet.

_I want to be chosen_.

She rested her forehead against his, breathing him in as her fingers caressed the hair at the nape of his neck.

“And now I choose to love you,” she whispered as she closed the remaining distance between them and kissed him softly. It felt like the world had turned on its axis and fell right back into place.

Everything was as it should be. Their universe was in harmony again.


End file.
